


A Study in Spite

by Torchiclove



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Trans Beau, Transphobia, i wrote this after ep three so be ready for it to be entirely wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13500152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchiclove/pseuds/Torchiclove
Summary: "Beauregard," she'd hiss through her teeth in the mirror and smile, because it was hers.Or, the one where Beauregard keeps her name out of spite.





	A Study in Spite

“My name’s Beau because my parents wanted a son!” she said, eyes full of that dull kind of brightness that creeps in when you stretch your face into a caricature of a smile to accentuate the bitterness, and she immediately regretted it.

It’s something that just slipped out, it _always_ did, because maybe deep down she really wanted to talk about it. Wanted to sit down and sink her teeth into how her parents _wanted a son_. 

She didn’t know they wanted a son until they didn’t have one; things are funny like that. Beauregard, ten years old and already full of fire, didn’t want to be a son anymore. Her parents had different ideas.

She tried other names, a _lot_ of other names, but they never stuck. Her parents wouldn’t let them stick. Beauregard this, Beauregard that, no matter how much she protested. Beauregard, don’t wear that; Beauregard, cut your hair. 

She never gave up, and eventually, they relented. But it wasn’t without bitterness. They hissed ‘she’ through their teeth like it was being beaten out of them, and the venom in their voices was like music to Beauregard’s ears. Because that means they _lost_. The anger felt good, felt right. It settled in Beauregard’s stomach and filled her up.

But _Beauregard_ was their sticking point. No matter how many _shes_ and _hers_ and _daughters_ she won, they never stopped calling her that. What else was there to do than get used to it? Beauregard was as good a name as any, and at this point, what did it mean? Did it mean people would look at her funny when she gave them a ‘guy’s’ name? Did it mean they’d scrutinize her, look too deeply into the loose clothes and the close shave and think, perhaps, that she was hiding something?

Let them think. Let them be _tortured_ by the thought. But perhaps, too, there was something about it that still burned? Her parents lamented about their lost son, how they wished he’d just return, the son they’d _always wanted_ (the son, Beauregard thought with a snarl, they’d never had).

There were layers upon layers in which Beauregard pretended she didn’t care. And, eventually, she convinced herself that, in a show of total apathy, she would leave. 

Not because of her parents and what they thought of her. Because that’s what she wanted to do. Just a whim. Whatever. 

She left at night. She didn’t think her parents would stop her, really, if she left in broad fucking daylight. They obviously didn’t care, but something made her hide it. The thrill of skipping town, perhaps? They joy at the thought of her parents, panicked, looking for her the next morning? Wishing that they’d been better, nicer, more supportive?

Or perhaps waking with relief to find her room empty, said a voice in the back of her head. She scoffed at it as she dropped out of the window, draped in blue cloth and carrying all her worldly possessions on her back.

There was time between then and now. Time that sucked and time that was all right. It was all time that she was free, so it was good time to her.

And then, after some time, she met a half-orc and tiefling. And she told them her name; Beauregard. Still Beauregard. Why? Why still Beauregard, now that she was free from it, the shackles removed. Why not one of the names she’d tried for so long at home?

Maybe it was spite. She’d taken the name that was forced on her for so long and, like molten iron, shaped it into a weapon of her own. "Beauregard," she’d hiss through her teeth in the mirror and smile, because it was hers. She’d stolen it like she stole her parent’s son. It was no longer theirs to use against her if she embraced it wholly into herself. 

She stuck with the two she met. They didn’t ask questions, seemed competent enough. Didn’t seem to care why she was named Beauregard, at least. They met more people, soon after. More introductions.

“Beauregard,” she said with a smile that showed years of spite.

“Beau,” they said, and she thought for a moment. Something new, something old. Something she’d earned.

And hell, it might just stick.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trans and this is incredibly self-indulgent. That's pretty much it.
> 
> An idea I had at the end of episode one as the why, if Beau is trans, she wouldn't change her name. Will it be canon? No. Will trans Beau be the hill I die on? Yes. 
> 
> Also, I'm considering this one another one of my 2am fics, if you're familiar with those.


End file.
